The tool man collected the package from the Eternal Library and stepped out into the afternoon air.
He hadn't walked half a block before he felt the tail. It wasn't through En, it was simply that his intuition for the movement of Nen had reached a razor's edge.
Every gaze carries weight. When someone watches you with intent, they cause a microscopic ripple in the atmosphere, a slight thickening of the air between the observer and the observed. To most, it's invisible. To someone as sensitive as Liam, it was as loud as a shout.
"One, two... four, five."
"Five of them, then?"
The tool man was dressed in a nondescript jacket, jeans, and sneakers, his hood pulled up to shadow his face. He looked like any other restless youth drifting through the city.
Three streets later, the five shadows were still there, tethered to his every turn.
Pretending to be impulsive, the tool man jumped up to slap a roadside billboard—a classic bored-teenager move. It gave him the split second he needed to glance back. The aura clinging to his pursuers—its volume, its shape, and the way it bled from the crowns of their heads—was far too refined for ordinary men.
If you're going to play at being civilians, you should at least try to hide your light, Liam thought. Or are you so arrogant that you don't think you need to?
The tool man tucked the package deeper into his jacket, shoved his hands into his pockets, and veered into a narrow side street. The alley was a chaotic artery of snack bars, trinket shops, and jostling crowds. It was loud, vibrant, and perfectly messy.
Ten seconds later, five figures entered the street. They moved in a loose, staggered formation, expertly covering each other's blind spots while maintaining a steady distance.
"Eyes on. The target might have spotted us," the lead pursuer whispered into a lapel mic. "Be ready to take him by force at any moment."
"Copy that."
"Oh! Watch out!"
A large tabby cat suddenly bolted from a shop doorway, its fur a blur of orange as it nearly collided with a passing toddler.
The tool man reacted instantly, warning the child and pulling her away from the frantic animal. The tabby, startled by the sudden movement, pounced at his chest with a soft thud.
"Is this a cat or a pig? What have they been feeding you?" The tool man laughed, catching the struggling feline in his arms before gently setting it down.
"Meow!" the fat cat shrieked, darting back into the crowd without a backward glance.
"Thank you, big brother," the little girl chirped.
"Too cute... my heart can't take it," the tool man smiled, pinching the girl's plump cheeks. "Where's your family, kiddo?"
The girl pointed to the shop where the cat had emerged. "That's my home."
The tool man chuckled. "So that big orange ball of fur is yours?"
"Yes! That's Blossom!" she said, before tilting her head. "Did you know where Blossom's name came from? Where did she go?"
Before she could spiral into a dozen more questions, the tool man patted her head. "Don't worry. Animals always know the way back. She'll be home before you know it."
Dozens of meters away, the five pursuers remained scattered. One pretended to browse a snack stall; another lingered at the entrance of a hardware store. They watched the target joke with the child before he resumed his walk.
Suddenly, the target stopped. He didn't look back, but the five shadows slowed their pace instinctively. He stepped into a roadside shop.
A flower and pet boutique.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. He didn't come out.
"Enough. Move in," the leader commanded.
They burst into the shop, their menacing aura causing customers and clerks to recoil in confusion. Their eyes swept the interior—exotic orchids, rare succulents, and glass enclosures filled with lizards and snakes. Along the back wall were cages of birds—hawks, owls, and falcons. Several owl cages sat conspicuously empty.
"There." The leader pointed to a lounge chair tucked into a quiet corner.
A female clerk tried to intercept them. "Excuse me, sirs—"
"Out of the way." They brushed her aside.
The target was sprawled on the recliner, his eyes closed. The leader frowned, leaning in to inspect the man. He seemed to be in a deep, unnatural sleep. The leader patted him down, searching the jacket, the pockets, the waistband.
Nothing.
He pulled out a phone and a wallet, tossing them to his subordinates, then delivered a sharp slap to the target's face.
The tool man blinked awake, his eyes wide with terror as he saw five grim faces looming over him. He tried to bolt, but the leader's hand slammed into his chest, pinning him to the chair with bone-crushing strength.
This guy is a monster, the tool man thought, cold sweat drenching his brow.
"I ask, you answer," the leader growled. "Where is the package?"
"What? Who are you? Why am I here? AHH!"
The leader had snapped his pinky finger without blinking.
"The things you took from the Eternal Library," the leader said. "Don't play games."
The tool man turned pale, his voice trembling. "I don't know what you're talking about! I've never been to a library! I haven't taken anything! Please, what is happening?"
He looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown. "I just wanted to get my License..."
The leader's brow furrowed. Something felt off. He delivered a swift chop to the man's neck, knocking him unconscious. "Take him. We'll break him at the safehouse."
Two of the men hoisted the limp tool man and carried him out.
The shop had cleared out during the commotion, but a few curious onlookers lingered near the entrance.
The leader scanned the room, his gaze settling on the trembling female clerk. He softened his tone, though his eyes remained hard. "Don't be alarmed. That man is a dangerous criminal. Tell me, what did he do when he came in? Every word, every movement."
The clerk looked at the remaining two men as they shooed away the last of the customers. The shop owner was being "convinced" to stay quiet with a handful of cash and the barrel of a gun.
The clerk gestured to an empty birdcage. "He... he said he was exhausted. He gave me a tip and asked if he could lie down for a few minutes. That's all. Look, here is the money." She held up two folded 10,000 Jenny notes.
The leader pressed her for more, but there was nothing else. Frustrated, he signaled his men to leave.
As the bustle died down, the clerk reached up and opened a small cage above her head. A sparrow flew out, circling the ceiling before darting out the front door.
The clerk let out a long, shuddering breath. Her eyes clouded with a brief, sharp panic, followed by profound confusion.
A voice echoed in the back of her mind: If those men come back, bite the tip of your tongue. If they don't, wait a week and prick the star on your palm with a needle. You'll be fine.
She shook her head. What had happened? The last thing she remembered was the customer shaking her hand with a warm smile. Then, it was as if someone else was wearing her skin. She remembered helping him select an owl—a bird of prey that had been strangely docile in his hands. He'd whispered something to it, and the bird had flown out the back door.
Then she had moved the recliner for him. She remembered using her own nail to scratch a tiny five-pointed star into the man's hand while he slept.
Then the five men had burst in.
At a street corner blocks away, the leader spoke into his phone. "We were a step late. The package is gone."
High above on a stone eave, a little sparrow watched him. Liam, controlling the bird, struggled to hear. A sparrow's ears weren't built for eavesdropping on low-volume phone calls, even from three feet away.
The leader glanced up, his instincts flaring.
The sparrow calmly tilted its head and pecked at a tiny mark on its claw, breaking the connection. The bird blinked, looked at the giant human with sudden avian curiosity, and chirped before flying away.
Farewell, cage!
"Those weren't mobsters."
In an alley at the other end of town, Blossom the tabby cat padded through the crowd, a roll of envelopes clenched in her teeth. Despite her weight, she moved with the silent, orange grace of a predator.
I don't know enough about the Hunter World's underworld to be sure, but those guys were too professional. Too high-quality.
They knew the package was coming. They knew I took it. But they were a beat behind. If they were working for Claudius, they would have been ahead of me.
Rival gangs? Or... the Kakin Royal Family?
Liam hated that thought. It seemed everything he touched eventually led back to Kakin.
The fat cat leaped onto a brick wall where an owl was waiting.
With a quick command, the cat dropped the envelope, and the owl snatched it up with an iron-hook beak.
Back at the pet shop, Liam had used the tool man to transfer a Star Mark to the cat. He'd stuffed the envelope into the feline's mouth and sent her on her way. He'd thought about releasing the cat once the handoff was done, but he remembered the little girl.
I don't trust this fat pig of a cat to find her way home on her own. I'll have to pilot her back.
Liam directed the tabby to return to the pet shop with elegant, over-fed strides. At the same time, he pushed the owl's wings into the sky.
His physical body was already traveling with Shizuku and Kurapika toward the next city. The owl wouldn't have to fly across the whole continent, but it had a long journey ahead. He'd have to find a car roof for it to rest on eventually.
In a quiet suburb, on the roof of a nondescript apartment, Kurapika lay on his back, watching the clouds drift. Beside him sat three glass jars of preserving fluid, each containing a pair of Scarlet Eyes.
A dark speck appeared in the distance, growing larger until it became an owl.
Kurapika stood, summoning the dolphin bookshelf. He opened the sixth volume, "Resurrection," and placed the solution tanks inside the book's pages before dismissing the ability.
The owl landed on his arm. Kurapika retrieved the envelope from its beak, praying the map inside was intact. He hopped down to the balcony and stepped into Liam's room.
He didn't need to explain—he knew Liam had been watching through the owl's eyes.
"What is all this?" Kurapika asked, stopping in his tracks.
The room was a disaster zone of cardboard boxes and shredded ribbons. Liam was sitting in the middle of the mess, holding a bizarre geometric sculpture encrusted with jewels.
Shizuku was nearby, happily feeding expensive-looking art pieces to Blinky.
The "gifts" from the mobsters were a hoard of jewelry, paintings, and antiques. Liam was having the time of his life, though he looked a little bored by the high-brow art.
"You're just in time, Kurapika," Liam said, crossing his legs. "I am officially appointing you the Treasurer of The Ten. You're in charge of selling off this 'confiscated' loot and depositing the proceeds into our account."
Kurapika handed over the envelope, ignoring the promotion. He stared at Liam with a heavy, unreadable expression.
"What?" Liam asked.
"You knew there would be bloodshed at that wedding," Kurapika said. "You knew the Spiders might be there. And you knew... about the death energy in your heart. Yet you went anyway."
He leaned in. "Liam, be honest with me. Do you want to absorb that energy? Are you trying to make your body grow faster?"
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